The African

Prima donnas are the most tiresome of people,
Even those who are exceptionally gifted tend,
By their constant airs and graces, to rub the most reasonable
Of men up the wrong way.
But fiery temperament, swift antagonism and child-like
arrogance when married to low intelligence
Make truly insufferable bedfellows
Which would at times move even a saint towards violence.
Such is the African.

His squat, ugly face and ludicrous falsetto,
punctuated liberally with “de”, “dis”, and “dat”,
Together with his air of supreme self-importance
and absurdly condescending manner bring one almost to boiling point.

Fortunately for him, most people can see the irony
Of his attitude and mannerisms, however unpleasantly
he may act towards them.
None of us has any doubt that he beats his servant,
And that his wife (who was cast from the same mould) beats
her maid with equal vigour.

Sometimes I wonder if he would be quite so full of it
if he had not been born rich;
Obviously his criterion of a man’s worth is the size
of the fellow’s bank account.
It’s about time he was made to realise that even if he were
A Nigerian David Rockefeller he would still be nothing more
than a jumped up picaninny with the IQ of a slightly
educationally sub-normal white man,
And no character at all.

[The above poem was written many years ago about one exceedingly
unpleasant individual. I stand by it. Originally it contained
another four verses which extrapolated from this individual to
others. This is a fallacy. I have deleted these verses because I
no longer believe in them. - September 5, 1997.]